


Melancholy

by AshSPN



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, His Last Vow Spoilers, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, cliff hanger, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshSPN/pseuds/AshSPN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post!His Last Vow. Moriarty's back, but is he whole?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melancholy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my creative writing class and it couldn't be more than four pages double spaced, so I decided to write this. I have a role play account of Jim Moriarty on tumblr and this story includes my head canon for how he survived.

It’s the sound of expensive men’s shoes against the cold concrete of the sidewalk that ruin the general silence of the night on this cold November evening in London. Each step is like a bullet whizzing through the air to his own ears, deafening and able to wake even the deadest of men from their graves. The wind exhales its chilling breath around him but he couldn’t pay attention to that. The night sky around him is as dark and dreary as he feels. Even though he is by himself, he hadn’t a clue where he’s going, his feet leading the way. His mind is mostly blank against his own thoughts. He couldn’t really allow himself to think anymore without finding himself blacking out. He found it’s easier to accept he wasn’t allowed to think than try and challenge himself.

His eyes close for a moment when he feels the first pelt of rain on his skin, chilling him to the bone. A shudder rakes through his body and when he opens his eyes again, everything seems darker than it previously had been. Heavy rain clouds cover the moon and the stars, leaving the only light being the streetlamps that gave off a ghastly yellow light that painted the ground that was beginning to darker with the rain glow gold. He remembered when all he ever wanted from life was to be desired like gold. He wanted to be the biggest and the best in whatever he decided to do. He supposed it was his own fault that he couldn’t be because his career choice had been to be a criminal. Yet, he was still the best, even if no one desired him as he wished they would have.

It had been two years ago when he had faked his own death. All the stars seem to do it just to get a break and he needed for the authorities to get off of his back so he could plot his next move against his enemy. He remembered it like it had just happened yesterday. The sun was shining on him, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The world was buzzing around him on the busy London roads. He had his rival right where he wanted him, except this wasn’t about his rival, no. He just needed the man there so he could go on talking about how he had killed himself. The gun was heavy in his pocket, the squib – modified to make it look more real than in any movie – on the back of his scalp was like lead, but his hands were steady as he talks. It was all a play, this is what he wanted. He had his audience and it was time for him to go out with a bang until the next show. Too much talking, not enough action, a final goodbye to his enemy and-…

He flinched against the memory, his body beginning to shut down as a defense mechanism and he finds himself holding the ledge of something for dear life as his body sways. He catches his breath, his head spinning, and his head aching. The plan hadn’t gone as well as he had planned. The gun filled with blanks had banged, the squib had exploded, and in its explosion it had taken a part of his scalp with it. He had been out of his mind for two years until the deep wound that didn’t cause too much damage thankfully scarred over. It had been a blessing in a way, though, because it had given him more time to plot his return.

After he had faked his suicide, he had made his return with a speech given that aired on every television in the country from a secret location that spoke of defiance and destruction. The whole country was in a panic but as soon as the cameras shut off, he was who he really was again: a weak, mentally psychotic, beaten man who would never be the same again. He tries to focus on the world around him again and was momentarily stunned when he hears the sound of a river. He freezes and looks around him, noticing that the platform that he had walked himself to was a bridge: Blackfriars Bridge. He looked at his hands that gripped the ledge and then looked over.

The plummet to the water was quite a ways down, in the dull light of the covered moon, he could see the ripples of the currents. His heart was picking up in his chest and he felt the tug of need in his gut as he imagines stepping onto the ledge and jumping down. It would be quite the thing; faking his suicide, proclaiming that he was still alive, then committing suicide without all the fancy props. He actually laughs to himself now as he pulls himself up onto the ledge and looks down at the water below him. How easy it would be to just walk off and into air, allowing himself to fall. It would even make for quite the show for anyone watching.

He begins to shrug off the arms of his suit jacket, allowing the article of clothing to fall only for it to be swept away by a strong gust of wind. He couldn’t be asked to care, though. He was much too focused on the river below him. His icy veins were starting to warm with adrenaline as he realized that when they were learning about Edgar Allen Poe back in secondary school, he was just now beginning to understand what he was talking about. The words fall from his lips now as he spreads his arms, preparing himself for the feeling of air rushing around his body, quoting Edgar Allen Poe’s Romance. “’And so being young and dipped with folly, I fell in love with melancholy,” he whispers to the world around him, not hearing the footsteps behind him as he begins to fall.


End file.
